28 August 2009

Infernal Yammering

As Cassell's press officer I promoted the Ken Parker-edited Robin Knox-Johnston bestseller of his momentous mucking about on some wide water.

Growing up in Hong Kong after the war, I crewed for a few hard cases who'd never settle for terra firma again.

In those days, the HK-Philippines jaunt was relatively pirate-free and a crate of decent San Mig awaitethed at t'other end.

One of my favourites was a gentle-tongued Scot (rare among sailors) who I later read must have endured appalling tortures under the Japanese in order to withhold names and supply routes. His excuse was that they couldn't understand his Pitlochry accent.

I remember one doldrum when he opened up:

Back when he was 17 he answered an advert as crew for a 2-man voyage.

After two days of silence en voyage, he made to make nervous chat - where was the guv'nor from? How did he catch the sailing bug, any family? Etc. Nil response.

Third day, silence.

Fourth day, another effort to start conversation.

Fifth and sixth days, he'd got the message so he left it to the skipper to feel guilty and break the silence.

A whole week into the sail, he tried again ... what had been his worst experience at sea? How close had he come to Davy Jones' Locker?

The way he told it, without even looking round, the skipper had rasped,